The Ring
by Ash10
Summary: Ever notice the wedding ring on Caje's finger...the now you see it, now you don't ring? This is my way of explaining that phenomenon! Please read and review! Thanks so much!


The Ring

They placed the wounded man gently onto the makeshift stretcher they'd rigged from tree branches and their own jackets. As they lifted the stretcher up off the ground, a narrow gold band rolled out of his torn chest pocket, stalled precariously on the left edge of the litter and dropped soundlessly to the ground.

"Hey, guys, look at what just fell outta Caje's pocket! If this don't look like a wedding ring, well then, I'll just be a monkey's uncle!"

"Kirby," Littlejohn replied, "you're gonna be the south end of a north bound monkey if you don't learn how to mind your own business. Now gimme that!"

The big GI made a grab for the ring, but the BAR man was too fast for him, skittering back and just out of Littlejohn's impressive reach. Kirby held the token clutched, tauntingly, in a grimy hand. There was nothing Littlejohn could do but glare at the smarmy private. After all, he had a kraut prisoner to guard. He felt like calling out to Sergeant Saunders, but thought on how he'd sound like one little kid tattling on another.

But leave it to Kirby to call attention to himself and not in a favorable way.

"Hey Doc," Kirby sidled up to the medic.

Doc had his hands full as he struggled to carry the foot end of Caje's stretcher. Sweat ran into his eyes beneath his helmet and his hands already felt chafed and sore. Blisters were not far behind. Yet it wasn't in the young medic to complain. However, he was in no mood to tolerate the annoying Kirby. "What, Kirby?" he huffed, stumbling slightly over a root which caught at his boot.

Kirby held up the plain gold band. "Bet 'cha didn't know ole Caje was a married man!"

"That hardly matters now, does it, Kirby? If we don't get him back to a field hospital fast, nothing's gonna matter much for Caje any more." Doc took a second away from watching the careful placement of his own footsteps to glare at the private. "Besides, that ain't none a your business," he hissed.

"Take the point, Kirby and keep it quiet." Sergeant Saunders' sudden appearance from seemingly out of nowhere gave Kirby an unpleasant start. Saunders was good at that, appearing out of nowhere just when Kirby thought he was safe.

"We're not alone in these woods, in case you haven't noticed." Saunders indicated the direction he expected the private to take using the muzzle of the Thompson as a pointer.

"Yeah, okay, Sarge, but about Caje…ain't you the least bit interested?" Kirby whined.

"No," Saunders replied and by the expression on the non-com's face, Kirby realized there was no room for argument, but Saunders wasn't finished yet. "The ring. Hand it over."

Kirby pouted, but passed the ring into the sergeant's keeping. Mumbling under his breath, Kirby hitched up the BAR and trotted to the front of the squad line.

"Thanks, Sarge," Doc managed between measured footsteps. "Kirby can be…" he wracked his thoughts for the perfect description.

Saunders nodded, finishing the medic's sentence for him, "a royal pain in the butt." Without looking at the ring he held, the sergeant tucked it away, deep down in a trouser pocket.

"Sarge?" Doc asked.

"Yeah, Doc, I knew Caje was married, if that's what you were gonna ask." Saunders fell slightly back to check out the wounded Cajun. He'd seen men wounded as badly, but never worse; those soldiers invariably didn't make it.

----

Caje woke in the field hospital. His first coherent thought was to locate the ring. Slowly, he worked his fingers up to his chest, to the pocket directly over his heart where he always kept it – It wasn't there! In fact, his shirt had been removed and he was bare-chested, aside from bandages wrapping him, mummy-like, from just under his arms to his waist.

He thought hard, remembering what he could of the running battle with the krauts. One of them had tossed a grenade. "Fire in the hole!" Caje caught the edge of the explosion, his upper body peppered with shrapnel – some wounds superficially shallow, others deeply penetrating. He remembered little after that, until now.

"My ring!" He attempted to sit up but his actions were hampered by IVs in both arms and by his physical weakness. He slumped back, his heart racing, his breathing labored. "My ring…" he gasped.

He closed his eyes and allowed the sweet memories to wash over him: when he first met Jean, his sister's best friend, a tiny blonde with angel eyes and skin like porcelain, so different than the Cajun girls he'd known; their first kiss shared on a warm summer evening sitting on the porch swing at Jean's home with a full moon hanging low in the night sky and Frank Sinatra crooning on the radio; when he proposed marriage – his nearly paralyzing fear that Jean would say no – his pure rapture when her answer was a breathless "yes." And the last time he held her in his arms, the sweet scent of her; the delicate touch of her fingertips against his cheek; the feel of her lips on his. God how he missed her, how he loved her!

Tears tracked silently down the beard-stubbled cheeks. He'd lost his only physical link to his wife. Those few times, in the dark cover of a moonless sky when he slipped his wedding ring onto his finger, he swore he could almost hear the sound of her voice whispering to him in the night, could almost detect the scent of her perfume – all sultry and inviting and warm. Those infrequent times when he forgot to remove the ring and found it on his finger, in the daylight, all sorts of imagined scenarios flashed through his mind, none of them pleasant. What if the guys had noticed? What kind of bawdy comments would spew from Braddock's smart mouth? What sort of lewd remarks would follow from Kirby? Quickly and furtively, Caje would remove his wedding band and hide it, safely, in his breast pocket, near his heart. And now it was gone. His grief knew no bounds.

----

A worried Sergeant Saunders sat at Caje's beside. As much as he wanted to light up a smoke, he refrained from doing so, being in a hospital and all. Instead, he pulled a battered stick of Juicy Fruit from his pocket, unwrapped the gum, put it, tentatively, into his mouth and chewed. The sweet taste wasn't unpleasant, but it sure wasn't a smoke.

He stared down at Caje. The doctor assured him Private Lemay had wakened after surgery, but that had been yesterday and there seemed little improvement in his condition. In fact, it appeared to be deteriorating. Saunders hoped he had the answer. Getting to his feet he reached a hand into his pants' pocket and retrieved a clean handkerchief. Tied into the white cotton was a plain gold wedding band.

Saunders sat down and worked the knot from the hanky. A few twists of the fabric and the ring was free. Reaching over, he took one of Caje's hands in his. Gently, he laid the ring on his palm and closed the scout's long, slender fingers around the gold band. "Your ring, Caje. You've got your wedding ring back."

There was no response.

Saunders placed his hand over the Cajun's and squeezed gently. "Feel it? Feel it, Caje? You've got your ring back."

Finally, Caje opened his eyes. It took some moments for him to realize where he was and who had wakened him. He wasn't pleased. Sleep brought dreams. Dreams kept reality at bay. Reality only brought pain and more pain. He shut his eyes and turned his head aside.

But Saunders wouldn't let things be, not Sergeant Saunders. His insistent voice hammered down the scout's defenses. Private First Class Paul Lemay had listened to his sergeant for too long. His need to reply was too ingrained. Saunders knew best. Saunders always knew best.

"Yeah, Sarge. I'm awake." Caje turned his head toward the sound of Saunders' voice.

The sergeant smiled, not so much with his lips, but with his eyes. "I brought your ring. It's here in your hand, but it belongs on your finger," he said.

The news was almost too good to be true! Slowly, Caje opened his hand and there, on his palm, lay his wedding ring, looking none the worse for wear. A smile spread across the scout's wan face. "Where? Who?" he managed.

Saunders relaxed back on his chair. "Your pocket tore open. Kirby found it."

A look of horror wiped the smile from Caje's face. "Not Kirby," he groaned, all his worst fears realized.

The sergeant nodded. "I'm afraid so, but don't worry about Kirby. He so much as mentions that ring, or your wife, well…" Saunders hesitated only briefly, "he'll have me to deal with."

Caje sighed in relief. The wrath of Saunders was enough to derail even a die-hard smart ass like Kirby. All would be well. All _was_ well. Trembling from weakness, yet buoyed by joy, Caje slipped the gold band onto the third finger of his left hand, and there it remained.

END


End file.
